Chapter 26

Xu Ze woke to a feverish heat all through his body. The room was a wash of warm yellow; it was already afternoon.

The fan was still turning. Xu Ze tugged the blanket down a little and let out a long breath. He was lying flat on his back; turning his head, he caught a blurred glimpse of Lu Heyang still sitting in the chair by the desk, one hand propped beneath his chin, apparently watching him.

The afternoon light filtered past the curtain and fell across Lu Heyang, lending him an air of unreality.

Xu Ze's eyes moved slowly, his gaze traveling — carefully, unhurriedly — from Lu Heyang's fingers to his shoulder, his jaw, the bridge of his nose, his brows. His look was not clear; his lashes hung low. He was in that state between sleeping and waking.

If Lu Heyang's arrival at noon had truly happened in the waking world, then Xu Ze was certain: this Lu Heyang, here and now, was the dream.

Otherwise he would never have had the courage to look so openly into Lu Heyang's eyes.

Xu Ze did not often dream of Lu Heyang — perhaps not even a handful of times in a year. He did not want to dream of him, because the fall between dream and waking was too steep, and waking left one low. But each time he did dream, Xu Ze cherished it with a particular, private tenderness.

He kept his gaze fixed on Lu Heyang without moving, then turned his body too, settling on his side to face him in silence.

Lu Heyang's left hand rested on his knee. It shifted, just slightly. Xu Ze's attention was drawn to it at once.

Five fingers, pale and long, the knuckles cleanly defined; the pad of his index finger pressed against his knee, rubbing back and forth in a small, idle motion. Xu Ze watched for several seconds, and somehow that tiny movement sent heat flooding his face and ears, a tingling running the length of his spine, as though Lu Heyang's fingers had traced across his back.

Xu Ze swallowed. An Alpha in his Susceptibility Period could not be put to such a test. He was seized with a shame so acute it burned — face and ears scarlet, he turned over, presenting his back to Lu Heyang. It was too hot. He caught the back collar of his T-shirt and pulled it up, baring his spine. Even knowing it was only a dream, Xu Ze felt Lu Heyang's gaze behind him as though it carried weight, pressing down between his shoulder blades. He panted a few times, then turned over again; the clear black of his pupils held Lu Heyang's reflection.

The blanket still lay across his waist. Xu Ze lifted his right leg and clamped it between his knees. After several stiff, motionless seconds, he let his hand slip downward, beneath the blanket.

His experience in this regard was next to nothing. Past Susceptibility Periods had mostly been endured with the help of Inhibitors; only a very few times had such a thought even risen, and then — lacking imagination, burdened by shame — he had given up after a few touches and simply waited for his body's response to fade on its own.

To think of Lu Heyang while doing it — Xu Ze would sooner have died.

But today he was dreaming, and it was only a dream, and Xu Ze felt himself thoroughly beguiled, thoroughly egged on. He only hoped that on waking he might forget every last detail; otherwise he would never again have the face to meet Lu Heyang.

With that thought, Xu Ze shut his eyes, not daring to look at Lu Heyang — and immediately regretted it. He wanted a few more glances. So he opened his eyes again; but after meeting Lu Heyang's gaze for a single second he looked away at once, embarrassed beyond bearing.

A buzzing filled his ears. Through the haze Xu Ze heard a soft beep, and saw Lu Heyang tap something on his Wristband — he could not tell what was being adjusted. Xu Ze tilted his chin up, the movement of his throat visible; he bit down on his lower lip to keep from making a sound.

It was the first time he had felt anything so acutely. His eyes were half-lidded; from his face to his collarbone he was flushed a single unbroken red, every muscle drawn taut. Under Lu Heyang's calm, steady gaze, after several minutes Xu Ze closed his eyes and muffled a few low sounds against his breath.

He panted for a while, then opened his eyes. Even after all that, he had not woken. He watched Lu Heyang rise from the chair and walk toward the bed.

Xu Ze stared, dazed, as Lu Heyang came to stand over him. One hand pressed down at the edge of Xu Ze's pillow; he leaned in. Xu Ze looked up at that face from close range and could not find a single flaw upon it. There might be no perfect person in the world, but Lu Heyang's face could be called perfect.

His lower lip, bitten, had gone a little red. He felt that Lu Heyang's features ought not to be this clear — in past dreams they had always been veiled, impossible to make out. Xu Ze reached out with his clean left hand — the one dislocated the night before, still aching — wanting only to touch Lu Heyang's face. Nothing else. Just once.

But before his fingers could reach Lu Heyang's cheek, Xu Ze saw Lu Heyang's brow crease, just slightly — and then his wrist was held down.

Lu Heyang said his name: "Xu Ze."

Only the sound of the fan turning remained in the room. Xu Ze looked up at Lu Heyang from below, blankly, and his gaze slowly, slowly began to clear.

From a flush to a bloodless pallor — it took no more than an instant. Xu Ze's face went white, and an expression of quiet, cornered despair settled over his features.

He could picture exactly what he must look like: the injury not yet healed, the corner of his mouth still swollen, his whole body slick with the sweat of his Susceptibility Period — already so wrecked, and yet he had been using a same-sex Alpha as the material of his fantasies.

What would Lu Heyang think of him? Xu Ze did not dare follow that thought for even one more second.

He could not speak. His throat felt packed with sand; his thinking had stopped at the moment he understood what had happened, and could not produce any useful response.

"Doctor Zhuo asked me to remind you — take your medicine, and check your temperature." Lu Heyang released Xu Ze's wrist and instead pressed a hand lightly against his chest, where a fine sheen of sweat lay. He spoke as though it were nothing: "He also wanted me to ask whether your lung still hurts."

His palm lay against Xu Ze's skin with nothing between them; beneath it he could feel the rapid, hammering beat of Xu Ze's heart.

Xu Ze was rigid from head to foot. It cost him a great effort to shake his head, just once.

"Good." Lu Heyang's hand moved to the back of Xu Ze's neck and held it. "The Inhibitor patch needs to be changed every three hours — the effect is better that way."

As he said it, he gave the nape of Xu Ze's neck a pinch — not light, not heavy — as though to drive the point about changing the Inhibitor patch firmly into Xu Ze's mind.

"Okay," Xu Ze said. His voice was so faint it was nearly inaudible; he spoke through a raw throat. "You should go back first."

Lu Heyang straightened up and looked down at Xu Ze for a few seconds. Xu Ze had already closed his eyes and buried his face in the pillow. The blanket still lay across his waist; his upper body and a stretch of calf were bare, and the hazy light from the window picked out the reddened marks and the sheen of sweat across his skin. Around the patches of gauze and the adhesive plasters, the dull red of older wounds showed through.

It was a full five minutes after he heard the door close that Xu Ze finally sat up on the edge of the bed.

He looked not far removed from a walking corpse. He dragged his feet to fetch clean underwear and clothes, then opened the door and made his way to the bathroom.

Passing through the living room, Xu Ze saw that the insulated lunch box was still on the dining table — Lu Heyang had forgotten to take the utensils with him.

Which meant that next week, back at school, he would have to return them to him in person.

Xu Ze did not think he had ever, in a single stretch, been confronted with so many problems at once.